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Of the scientific work that they are doing to-day, Agnes M. Clerke, in a charming article on M. Febriere's book in Literature of August 13th, from which we have gleaned most of the material for this sketch, says: "It (the scientific work women are at present engaged in) is quiet, steady, far-reaching-extending indeed to all That treats of whatever is, the state,

The total chronicles of man, the mind,

The morals, something of the frame, the rock,
The star, the bird, the fish, the shell, the flower,
Electric, chemic laws, and the rest,

Intellectual history

And whatsoever can be taught and known. The results cannot but prove momentous. must be profoundly modified by so large an accession to the forces making for progress. In the past, female contributions to knowledge were valuable, it is true, but exceptional and unsystematic. Now, at last, they bid fair to become so serious and habitual as to be admitted withont surprise, and appropriated without compliment."

In the Congressional Library at Washington, where, as in a World's Pantheon, are enshrined the names of the great of all ages and all nations: law-givers, painters, poets, scientists, all who have enriched the world--in this glorious galaxy of those who have truly seen and greatly wrought, there is not one woman's name among them all. Such will not be the case, I venture to predict, when the twentieth century builds its Pantheon.

Tolstoi on Art.

E. S. H.

Great artists are not often the best expounders of art, but nevertheless, we listen eagerly to what they have to say, hoping that they may let the secret out of "how they do it." When, however, great artists discourse not only on their own method of art, but on art in general, the metaphysics of art, its relation to morality, religion and life, though we may still listen attentively, it is generally with a lurking suspicion that we are not hearing the final word. So rarely have the creative and analytic faculties been found united in one. mind that we have come to believe that the "fine frenzy" which is the inspiration of genius is inimical to that calm balance of mind which should be the possession of him who would philosophlize on art.

For this reason there are many who hold that whatever Count Leo Tolstoi might have to say on art would be utterly worthless-they declare him "unbalanced" "a fanatic" "a socialist."

And yet when the author of such a book as "Anna Karenina”—to name but one of Tolstoi's masterpieces-pronounces this and all his

previous work utterly bad and starts out upon an altogether new genre, a theory of art that brings about such an entire change in workmanship, becomes of interest not only to every student of literature but to every student of social phenomena as well.

Any one who, in these last years, has followed Count Leo Tolstoi might have predicated with some certainty his theory of art. The reader who knows how Tolstoi, moved to it by humanitarian views, has given up his ancestral estate and become a "naturalized" peasant; how he works the fields in summer, boot-makes in' winter and writes. in his leisure time, simple stories for the poor people around him, will find little that is unexpected in his new book, What is Art? The work is accessible to English readers through Mr. Alymer Maude's admirable translation and is published in this country by Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. We give below some quotations from the work that show plainly Tolstoi's points of view:

Art is not a pleasure, a solace, or an amusement. Art is a great matter.

Art is a device for unifying men through the experience of common feelings, and as such it is indispensable to the life of humanity and its progress in the path of happiness. Art, in short, is a language, differing from verbal speech in this respect, that speech transmits the thoughts of man, art his emotions and sentiments.

The task for art to accomplish is to make that feeling of brotherhood and love of one's neighbor, now obtained only by the best members of society, the customary feeling and the instinct of all men.

The destiny of art in our time is to transmit from the realm of reason to the realm of feeling the truth, that well-being for man consists in being united together, and to set up in place of the existing reign of force that Kingdom of God, i. e., of love, which we all recognize to be the highest aim of human life.

According to Tolstoi then, art is the active transmission of the artist's feelings to others by means of this language of universal, alluniting sympathy. Viewed in this way, art becomes a bond of union, not an artificial distinction separating the cultivated from the uncultivated classes. This view of art, radical as it may now seem, is doubtless destined to prevail. We are living in the midst of a social revolution so rapid and far-reaching that we ourselves are unconscious of it in all its bearings, but which none the less surely is making for the democracy of art, so that the notion of an art reserved for the elite is daily becoming more and more preposterous. There are no longer any privileged classes among us and the art of the future must make its appeal to all alike.

Tolstoi maintains, therefore, that great art, is art that reaches the people, that touches the masses and the highest test of a work of art is to rate it by its quality of generality. He indeed goes so far as to assure us that the standard of taste in respect to true art is that of “a respected, wise and educated country laborer," for a peasant, he declares, and such a man only easily selects a work of true art and is not

to be put off by false. Hence good art is art that is approved by the rude intelligence; sincerity is its most important quality and technique or execution counts for very little.

The errors to which so extreme a view would inevitably lead, are at once apparent. They are adequately commented upon by Mr. M. H. Spielman in a review of Tolstoi's book in Literature of July 30th. Mr. Spielman's article is a particularly lucid and well considered exposition of Tolstoi's art theory and we take pleasure in quoting therefrom:

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"Fine" art, the author (Tolstoi) rightly considers, is greatly a question of technique, and as fine" art can only last as long as the masses of the people are held in the free slavery which is necessary to produce it, and as true art can spring only from spontaneity and is not possible where art teaching, art critics and professional artists exist, it follows that technique and workmanship cannot be considered as otherwise than a blemish. Excellence of execution is a false quality, appreciated only by the corruption that is synonymous with the erudition, perversion and irreligion of the upper classes. The demand for technique he compares to the demand for live cheese and the corrupt liking for "high" grouse.

Soupper-class" art versus "universal art is defined as insincere versus sincere art. But he says that the sole test of universality of art is its intelligibility. Whatever the peasant does not understand is bad, for nowhere does Tolstoi make any allowance for dullness of perception in the mind of the individual spectator or listener. He ignores sensibility in intelligibility and execution in subjectmatter and is brought to this self-contradiction-he admits that technique would deteriorate, in such a state as he imagines, but would give place to the peasant-spirit "a hundred times better" He is driven to consider the subtleties and refinements of art which are lost on the masses as no-art and to denounce them as harm ul and decadent. His theories lead him to declare Michael Angelo's Last Judgment "absurd "and Hamlet "bad art."

So the future of art, had Count Tolstoi the ordering of it, would be its liberation from the degrading perversion of culture and its return to primitiveness. As the professional would be unknown, the expression of art would be sincere and incompetent, distinguished by its morality and its archaic tentativeness of expression.

As art-theory all this hardly merits any one's serious consideration; but as the theory that Tolstoi is himself putting into practice it has a great and universal interest. Believing that art should not be divorced from labor, Tolstoi works for his own livelihood, believing that art should solace labor, Tolstoi writes simple stories for the simple folk around him and whatever we may think of the theory, we cannot but admire the earnestness, single-heartedness, and simplicity of the man. There is something of unmistakable nobility and grandeur in the consistent way that he is putting into practice an impracticable theory.

Perhaps his mental attitude is better illustrated by the following little story than any amount of formal criticism:

Once upon a time some men were working by a river and one of them took a reed from the water-side where it was growing and fashioning it into a rude instrument began blowing upon it, and his companions were so delighted with the sound that they begged that

he would go on playing while they did his work and theirs too. So far so good, but the player soon became enamoured of his own heavenly strains and began to think that the men-those uncouth toilers there before him-could not appreciate such music, its rare beauty was beyond their dull perceptions, he was wasting his talent playing for them, and so he left them and went away to a city and into a great hall where many men were playing on many different kinds of instruments and many other men sitting at ease were listening to them, and he took his place among the players and began to play. And there he played on and on for the rest of his life, played in eager, feverish, passionate excitement, trying to drown the other musicians and to gain for himself the attention and applause of the men who were listening, "the critics" and "the cultivated class."

The moral, as drawn by Tolstoi, is that art ought never to be followed as a business or profession, that it should not be considered a privilige of the elite or addressed to the initiated alone, but that the artist should live and work with other men-"with men my brothers, men the workers"-and write for them out of a common experience, something to help, to comfort and inspire.

As this does away with "a leisure class" to whom we are owing nearly all of our art production we see how false it must be as a theory of art and yet the germ of truth that is to be found in all error is present even in this so preposterous art-theory of Tolstoi's, inherent in this very idea of the soladarity of labor, that art is only one form of human activity and that an art to be permanent must keep close to the masses and draw its inspiration from those universal experiences that are the common possession of the race. Perhaps, too, he glimpses a great truth when he declares that the mission of art is to bring all classes of people into closer union and sympathy. The conception is in entire accord with the democratic spirit of our time. The consciousness of the brotherhood of man is possessed by the race as an intellectual perception; art may yet transform that perception into feeling. The concrete realization of this feeling as "that divine faroff event towards which the whole creation moves" can be brought about, according to Tolstoi, only through the agency of art. Art, by reason of its emotional quality, takes hold of the feelings and feeling by reason of its dynamic power controls actions. The program for art, therefore, is to quicken sympathy, kindle the enthusiasm of brotherly love, lay in the souls of men the rails along which actions will naturally pass until that peaceful co-operation which is now only maintained by prohibition and force will then be attained by man's free and joyous activity, and a universal art will lead the people into the joy of a universal union.

But the art that is to accomplish all this need not begin by making its appeal to the illiterate. Here Tolstoi makes his fatal mistake. The problem is not to bring art down to the masses, but to raise the people to an appreciation of art. It is simply a question of education. In building his temple of art, Tolstoi should have made education its corner-stone.

But Tolstoi fails to see this. He only sees that the "fine" art of which "cultured" people have so much in creating an ever-widening breach between the classes and the masses and so he stands and shouts with Rousseau, shouts frantically, disparingly, "Back to nature!" "Back to nature!" This is Tolstoi's heart-cry and head-cry and like Rousseau he fails to see that "back to nature," would mean in too many instances a return to barbarity. He cannot realize that this culture which he so deplores is only harmful because it is in the possession of a few. A monopoly of education is the worst kind of monopoly.

If Tolstoi had been the seer as well as the artist and social reformer he would have seen that universal art and universal brotherhood are only possible through universal education.

E. S. H.

"Science, the arts, and every form of human knowledge await the coming of one who shall link and unite them all in a single idea of civilization and concentrate them all in one sole aim. They await his coming and he is destined to appear. With him the anarchy that now torments intelligence will cease; and of arts the proper place and ranks assigned to each, the vital force of each fortifiel by the power of all, and sanctified by a mission-will once more flourish in harmonious union, immortal and revered."

To those who speak to you of heaven, and seek to separate it from

earth, you will say that heaven and earth are one, even as the way and the goal are one. Tell us not that the earth is of clay. The earth is of God. God created it as the medium through which we may ascend to him. The earth is not a mere sojourn of temptation or of expectation; it is the appointed dwelling place wherein we are bound to work out own improvement and development, and advance toward a higher stage of existence. God created us not to contemplate but to act. He created us in His own image and He it thought and action, or rather, in Him there is no thought that is not simultaneous action."-Mazzini.

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